


Date Night

by harlequin (julie)



Category: Die Hard (Movies)
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-13
Updated: 2008-07-13
Packaged: 2019-03-16 20:42:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13644072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/harlequin
Summary: Matt heads out one Saturday night to meet a guy he says is a friend, but when John sees them together he realises it's a date. He follows them to a gay night club, feeling both intrigued and confused.





	Date Night

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the prompts for the July 4 ficathon on the hard4brains Live Journal community.
> 
> Kudos: Nominated in the Best Romance category in the Forsaken Fandom Awards, 2008. XD

# Date Night

♦

It appeared that the kid was going out. Late Saturday afternoon, there was a sudden flurry of activity around John McClane’s spare bedroom and the bathroom. When Matt Farrell eventually emerged, his hair was washed and brushed, his face shaved, and John thought he detected the scent of cinnamon which seemed suspiciously like whatever product it was that Lucy had bought John last Christmas, back when she still didn’t care. Apart from the excessive personal grooming, Matt was in a decent pair of black pants, perhaps the first time John had seen him in anything but jeans. Otherwise, he was undressed, barefoot. John was rather pointlessly pleased to discover that Matt wasn’t as weedy as expected, and actually had a bit of muscle definition despite never going to the gym. A diamond of dark hair trailed down his breastbone.

Matt was holding up a shirt, and looking a bit fretful. ‘John? D’you think this needs an iron?’

‘Got a date, kid?’

‘Uh…’ Matt looked at him for a long moment. Something behind those wide, honest brown eyes was ticking over in thought. ‘No. Not really. He’s just a friend.’

John raised an eyebrow. It seemed an awful lot of fuss to go to for a friend.

‘But we might head into the city later. Go dancing. You know.’

Ah, so they’d both be on the prowl. That made more sense.

Matt held the shirt up for examination again. ‘What d’you think? Not that I’ve ever really figured out how…’

Well, it wasn’t like John had anything better to do. He decided to take pity on him. The kid probably didn’t know one end of an iron from another, and no doubt would burn himself, scorch the shirt, crush his fingers setting up the ironing board. ‘OK, OK, I’ll do it for you.’ John had never known Matt to wear anything pressed, even now he had some high-paying job in the city. In fact, the office uniform seemed to consist of torn jeans, sneakers, and t-shirts bearing garish images or wincingly bold messages.

Matt trailed after John into the kitchen, sank to a chair at the table with one leg curled under him, and watched John, apparently very impressed. ‘Where d’you learn to do that?’

‘Take care of my uniforms, don’t I? Gotta get it right, or there’s hell to pay.’

‘Wow. I guess living here has its benefits!’

‘Well, don’t get too comfortable, kid. I’ll teach you how to do this, if you want, but I ain’t gonna be your valet.’

‘How about my gentleman’s gentleman…?’ Matt suggested in teasing tones.

John lifted an eyebrow. ‘Maybe. If you were actually a gentleman…’

Matt grinned at him, that wide, engagingly cheeky grin of his. ‘No chance. Fucking shame.’

John worked on the shirt, not caring about having an audience. In fact, John almost forgot about him being there, Matt was so unusually quiet. The shirt was a good one, and it would suit Matt’s colouring, being a warm dark brown with a hint of burgundy when it caught the light. The kid would look smart. The girls would fall over themselves.

‘John,’ Matt eventually said.

‘Yeah?’

‘Remember back in July. That first day. The fire sale.’

‘Yeah,’ he said noncommittally. It wasn’t like he was gonna forget in a hurry.

‘It was so crazy. The craziest thing that ever happened to me, by far. These guys trying to kill me. My apartment blowing up. Everything I owned pretty much gone. Most of the other hackers I knew already dead. Me getting fingered by the FBI. It was all so unreal, so surreal.’

‘Yeah,’ John responded as Matt left another expectant pause. Where was this heading? It was weeks now since Matt had finally quit saying _Thank you for saving my life_ a dozen times a day.

‘ _You_ were so solid, though. The only real thing in an unreal day.’

John didn’t say anything this time. It was kinda gratifying to hear Matt say it, though. Gratifying in a small way. It counted for more than medals and speeches, hearing something like that from someone who’d been in the thick of it with him all the way.

‘Remember in the tunnel in Washington, when you killed that helicopter with a car…?’

‘Yeah, kid,’ John said softly. He remembered the exhilaration immediately afterwards, when he saw that against all odds the thing had worked.

‘Well, you know… you know, I thought you were in that car, John.’

He looked at the kid in surprise. He hadn’t seen that coming. He wouldn’t have expected Matt to say it in such a quiet, confiding tone, either.

‘There was this awful moment when I thought you were in the car, and you’d sacrificed yourself to get those guys, and there was no way that anyone could have survived that, even someone as solid and as good as you.’

John took a moment to hang Matt’s shirt up to cool, then collapsed the ironing board and put it away.

‘ _That_ was the moment I thought… I thought my heart would break. None of the other crap mattered. I couldn’t bear the idea that you were dead.’

John stood the iron on the counter, wound the cord up neatly, and then he couldn’t put it off any longer. He slowly turned around to face Matt. Still deeply unsure of where this had come from, where this was going.

Matt was sitting there, tense, focussed wholly on John. Those big dark eyes gazing at him. Every fibre of him expectant.

John didn’t have a clue what the kid wanted from him. It reminded him of the times when he and Holly tried to talk, and she’d explain something at great length, something of terrible significance to her, and John would hardly even understand what she was saying let alone what she wanted. Eventually she gave up trying to get through to him. It took longer for him to also give up, but finally John had to admit that hanging on had caused nothing but pain.

For now John crossed his arms, nodded, and let a moment drift by, at the end of which Matt finally kinda relaxed a bit. John leaned back against the counter. ‘So,’ he said in the most neutral tones he could manage, ‘where are you meeting your friend?’

Matt sighed, and sagged a bit. ‘Um, just down at Carluccio’s near the station. You said it was a good place to eat, right? Oh – uh, did I tell you I won’t be here for dinner tonight?’

‘No, but that’s fine, kid. I’ll pick something up at the deli.’

‘Cool. OK.’

‘When are you heading off?’

Matt glanced at the clock, and sprang up. ‘Oh fuck, I’m gonna be late. This all right now?’ he asked, gesturing respectfully at the shirt.

‘Sure.’

Matt grabbed it, and dashed out of the kitchen. Another flurry of activity down the hall, and then Matt poked his head back round the door. ‘Don’t wait up,’ he advised with a wink.

And he was gone. The slam of the door echoed around the empty apartment.

♦

It was a pleasant enough evening, and John felt like stretching his legs, so when he finally ventured out he ended up taking the long way round through the park to the deli. He thought about trying something different once he got there, but when he imagined his usual order – prosciutto, char-grilled vegetables and jarlsberg slices on a sourdough roll – his taste buds started salivating. So that was that. He was a creature of habit and there was no hope for him.

This route took him past Carluccio’s, so he glanced in through the large windows as he walked by, looking for Matt. And then forced himself to keep going once he’d seen him.

John came to a halt outside the next shop along, trying not to gape in shock. Why hadn’t he known this about the kid? Had he known this? Matt’s friend was a guy, they had already established that much. But it was perfectly clear now that this _was_ a date. The image of Matt had seared itself on John’s mind. Matt had been smiling in a seductive way that had somehow been both warm and wry. He’d been leaning forward across the table as if gravity was pulling him irresistibly in that direction. And he was gazing at his friend as if he was the most fascinating thing in the whole world.

There had been times when John was on the receiving end of that gaze. If the friend was inclined the same way as it seemed Matt was, then how could he resist? John hadn’t known what it meant. And of course he wasn’t that way inclined. So it wasn’t an issue. But for the friend – who remained a shadowy presence at the edge of John’s remembered image – Well, John could only wonder why they were still sitting at the table eating dinner like a civilised pair. If a woman had looked at John like that, he would have called for the check and hustled her off home immediately.

But… but… what did Matt think he was doing? No one was safe these days. In any of so many ways. John stayed stalled where he was, all thoughts of prosciutto and sourdough vanished. Like any young person, Matt thought he knew it all, but really he was ridiculously vulnerable. Gullible. Naïve. It was part of his charm, but it also left him wide open and… hurtable. If there was such a word. There were too many scumbags in the world who’d be unable to resist hurting him. Who’d _enjoy_ hurting him. As indeed Thomas Gabriel had proved.

Although Matt was a grown man now, John argued with himself. A young man, but a man nevertheless. Matt himself wouldn’t thank him for worrying like this. John wouldn’t have appreciated it at the same age; John would have thought it completely unnecessary. John had been married and was making every effort to become a father at the same age! What was he thinking? Matt could look after himself.

Hell, Matt couldn’t even iron a shirt.

But Matt was pulling in a salary twice the size of John’s.

Matt didn’t even have his own place, for God’s sake, and probably couldn’t run it if he did.

But Matt was maturing into the responsibilities of sharing a home, of legitimately earning a living, of having grown-up friends who weren’t hackers.

Though Matt had confessed a lingering envy of Freddie and his eternally boyish lifestyle.

Matt was –

Matt was coming out of the restaurant, with his friend at his side. John froze, but luckily for him they both turned towards the subway station without looking around. The friend was tall and broad-shouldered, fairly slim but heftier than Matt. If he seriously tried anything, Matt wouldn’t stand a chance…

Keeping his distance, John started following them.

♦

Of course John was good enough at this kind of thing not to get caught by his quarry, but that hardly mattered this time. The two young men were entirely absorbed in each other. They stayed a judicious six inches apart, but paid no attention to anything or anyone else, and their body language made it clear that those six inches of space were charged with energy, as if arcs of electricity were buzzing between them. The electricity was so intense that a little of it crackled through John himself, and occasionally he glanced around wondering why the two weren’t energising the whole train, lighting up all of Brooklyn, all of Manhattan.

Matt hadn’t lied about the dancing, even if John had misunderstood who’d be dancing with whom. The two waited in line to get into a club, clearly a gay club, while John waited in the shadows across the street. They were talking, chatting back and forth, laughing, still wholly engrossed in each other. Matt seemed utterly comfortable, not nervous or anxious. John had rarely seen him so confident. It made him feel he’d let Matt down. How could he consider John’s apartment as home, if he never relaxed like this while he was there?

At last the two were allowed in. John headed over there, and discreetly flashed his badge at the huge guy on the door. ‘Let me in, would you?’ he murmured.

The bouncer looked back at him flatly. ‘You on duty?’

‘I’m trying to protect someone, I’m not looking to bring trouble.’

‘Too much to ask for respect?’

‘Respect is my middle name.’ John withstood the unimpressed examination for another moment, and then got impatient. ‘Come on, I asked nice, and you know I don’t even have to ask.’

‘Yeah…’ The guy grudgingly tipped his head, telling him to go in. The other guys waiting in the queue moaned and bitched, but the bouncer and John both ignored them.

John paused, though, to reassure the man. ‘Don’t worry. I’m just here to look out for someone. If he stays OK, then everyone stays OK.’

‘Go on in,’ the bouncer responded. ‘Hey, and try having some fun while you’re here.’

John just chuckled humourlessly at such a preposterous notion.

♦

Soft drink in hand, John perched himself on a stool at the far end of the bar, and looked around for Matt and his friend. They were already on the dance floor. The music, if you could call it that, was thudding along at a great rate of knots. Matt was jumping around, arms in the air, dancing exactly as John would have guessed: like an adorable, energetic puppy, bouncing around, full of fun, his dark hair flopping around. He was grinning like a maniac, as if he’d been waiting for just this outlet all week. His friend was dancing as well, but mostly watching Matt with amused admiration. John almost empathised with him.

The music changed to something just as charged, but slower and sexier. And Matt’s dancing style changed accordingly. John would never have foreseen this. He moved sinuously, sensuously, the wave of every beat rippling right through him. Still geeky and gawky somehow and yet utterly seriously sexy. Moving in ways that John associated with women. And cats. It was spellbinding. Matt’s friend agreed. He moved in at last, slipping his hands around Matt’s waist, gathering him closer, and then leaning in for a kiss. Matt responded, stretching up, his arms snaking around the guy’s neck, his head tilting back as he surrendered to the embrace, lifted up for the full-mouthed kiss, pressed forward for the electricity of being hip-to-hip with someone. Hips and thighs and all that lay between pushed hard against a matching set…

John shook himself, made himself look away, turn away. He twisted around to sit facing the bar, and forced himself to not search for Matt’s distorted reflection in the mirror behind the rows of bottles; avoided his own reflection, too. He drank the lemonade, though it soured his mouth with too much sugar. Well, if there was one thing he could be sure of now, anything that happened between Matt and his friend would be consensual. There seemed no doubt about the matter any more. He wondered if Matt would bring the guy home, if John would have to listen to them having sex in the single bed in the spare room while he lay lonely in his double bed.

‘ _Some_ one’s getting lucky tonight.’

John looked around to see who’d spoken so insinuatingly. It was some young guy with shaggy dark hair and suggestive dark eyes and a screamingly gay manner. Almost but not entirely unlike Matt. ‘Someone might be, but not me,’ John replied.

The guy didn’t take the hint. ‘You could, you know.’

John just shook his head. ‘Nah.’

‘I realise you came here for _him_. You’ve made that obvious, my darling. But that doesn’t mean you can’t get lucky with second best.’

John gave him a wry smile. ‘It’s not what you think.’

‘Isn’t it?’ An artfully raised eyebrow conveyed a great deal of scepticism.

It was time to go home. Alone. It was time to let Matt live his own life. He asked the guy, ‘They still…?’

‘Ooh _yes_. They wouldn’t notice if you announced World War Three had just started. They wouldn’t notice if Judy Garland herself made a grand entrance.’

‘Thanks.’ John stood. Took a breath. ‘Goodnight.’

‘It _could_ be a _very_ good night…’

Grinning at him, John shook his head. Touched despite himself by the persistence of the offer. And then he walked out of there without once looking back.

♦

He sat up waiting for Matt to come home. Partly because he knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway, and partly because he had to see Matt again that night. He just had to, though he couldn’t have said why.

A beer helped ease the dreariness of late night television, though John knew it would have to be just one. He wasn’t gonna fall off the wagon over this. That would mean it was important, significant, and after all it wasn’t. Matt was gay, and hadn’t told him. That was all. What the hell was there to get in a state about? But he had to see Matt.

On his way back from the bathroom, John remembered there was a full-length mirror on the back of his bedroom door. He went in there, switched on the light, swung the door closed, and stood before it. Studied himself. He looked like a stranger. He stared back at himself coldly. Bald, battered, worn. Bitter, in his worst moments. Life hadn’t done him many favours. He’d won a few battles, sure, but he’d lost the only war that counted.

He stripped off his shirt, and examined the scars left on him, turned and looked over his shoulder to see the ones down his back. The latest bullet wounds were still a dull purple. Other than those patches of rough, miscoloured flesh, well, even he had to admit he wasn’t in bad shape for fifty. He kept fit. He wasn’t the man he used to be, but then no one could go on pretending they were thirty and in their prime forever. He unbuckled his belt, and let his jeans drop to see the scars on his thighs. Even those cuts on his feet from the glass in the Nakatomi building had left lines and odd-shaped stars on his soles. He lifted each foot in turn to look at them, a hand against the wall for balance.

Well, he’d stepped out of the jeans, he may as well go the whole hog. John pulled down his boxer shorts and let them fall, and then stood tall before the mirror. Tried to feel the pride in his squared shoulders. The stranger standing there looking back at him wasn’t bad. It wasn’t as if that guy at the bar was completely misguided in propositioning him. John knew he was in good condition, that he was well enough endowed and knew what to do with it, that he was a decent man who had learned how to treat someone well. Unfortunately that last point was partly the result of making some really really stupid mistakes, but he’d learned from them, that was the important thing. He wasn’t such a bad catch. Was he?

So why was it that when Matt first moved in, John had wondered whether it would cramp his own style to know he’d be overheard when he got lucky – and yet in all these months, he’d never had the chance to find out?

John sighed, and turned away. Maybe it was time to quit beating himself up, and try to get some sleep. He was halfway to the chest of drawers to get a fresh pair of boxers when he heard the front door being carefully opened and then closed and locked. Matt was home already? John paused. Turned back towards his clothes. He still wanted to see Matt.

Matt must have padded down the hall in his socks, because suddenly there was a gentle tap at the door, and a whisper: ‘John? You asleep?’

John cleared his throat, muttered, ‘Hang on, kid.’

But Matt had cracked the door open as soon as he heard John reply. His dark eyes quickly found him, and widened.

John was stranded, naked, in the middle of the room. He stood tall again, reaching for whatever small amount of dignity he might still have. It would hardly be dignified, after all, to bend over and grab his discarded boxers – he’d probably lose his balance and trip himself getting them on – and anyway, they were right near Matt’s feet. John didn’t want to get any closer to Matt right now than was necessary.

Matt, meanwhile, was gaping. He opened the door wide, and stepped in, unashamedly looking John over from head to toe. His hands still clutched the door and the jamb, with his arms stretched out to either side as if barring any possible exit. ‘John…’ he murmured. ‘John…’

He took refuge in the mundane. ‘You’re back early. Earlier than I expected.’

Matt glanced away in confusion, which was a relief to John at least. ‘Well, you know, there was dancing… but it wasn’t gonna lead anywhere.’

‘It wasn’t?’ John burst out in disbelief.

Matt looked back at him, even more confused by John’s obvious surprise. ‘Nah. What a tease she was! Figured I’d call it a night, and come home.’

John stared at the young man, unable to process this. There was no way Matt couldn’t have gotten lucky right there on that dance floor, if that’s what he’d wanted. But he could hardly quiz Matt about it when he wasn’t even meant to have been there. He grunted in acknowledgement, and then decided his dignity could bear no more – he turned back towards the chest of drawers, and pulled out a clean pair of shorts. Well, he didn’t want to bend over with his back to Matt, so he turned halfway round for the sake of discretion – and stalled again.

Matt was staring at him now with desire. Naked desire. Hot, naked, starving desire. If his friend had got him going already, as he must have, well, John was feeling the full force of the results. And no one could remain unmoved as the object of that gaze. ‘John…’ Matt murmured again. There was a plea in his voice. He took another step into the room.

John quickly dragged his boxers on before he embarrassed himself or gave Matt the wrong idea with any untoward reactions. There was nowhere else to sit, so he sank to the side of the bed. Matt was lusty enough to make do with second best? Was that it? John knew well enough that a young man’s needs could be powerfully demanding. So why the hell hadn’t he let his friend take care of him?

‘John…’

‘Matt,’ said John quite firmly, ‘tell me something true about tonight. Just tell me one thing that’s true.’

The kid’s eyes flicked away for a moment, and he swallowed. ‘Well, we ate at Carluccio’s, like I said. We went into town, and danced.’

‘You and your friend.’

‘Yes. I decided to come home early.’

‘Who did you dance with?’

Matt stared at him, and fear started to undermine the lust. ‘Fuck. You know, don’t you?’

John just looked at him steadily.

‘My friend,’ said Matt. ‘Adam. I danced with him.’

‘So why aren’t you with him now?’

‘Because…’

‘Yes?’

‘Because…’ Then Matt wailed, ‘John, you don’t wanna know!’

‘ _What_ don’t I want to know?’

‘Oh _fuck!’_ And Matt turned, and dashed away back down the hall.

John sighed. Got up. Retrieved his jeans and shirt, and pulled them on. Followed the kid through to the kitchen – about as far away as Matt could have gotten without actually leaving the apartment. ‘Come on, Matt. Talk to me.’

Matt was tucked away in the far corner, back pressed against the wall. ‘I tried to tell you! I _did_ tell you – right _here_ – before I went out. You just didn’t get it!’

‘What didn’t I get?’

‘He’s been asking me out, all this time, Adam’s been asking me out, and I told him I couldn’t, I had to try – but you just don’t get it, do you? And you wouldn’t want it anyway!’

‘What wouldn’t I want?’

‘For fuck’s sake, McClane, don’t you get it even now? I love you! I’m in love with you. I _want_ you, Christ, I want you so bad. I’ve known it ever since that moment when I thought you were dead, when I thought you were in that car you crashed into the helicopter – and now you know it, too, unless you still don’t fucking well get it.’

John watched Matt through this outpouring, and it didn’t come as such a big shock after all. Had he been expecting this? Had he been responding to it without even knowing?

‘ _That’s_ why I came with you, _that’s_ why I left Warlock’s house and came with you to Woodlawn, don’t you see? And you said that’s what made me That Guy, you thought I was being brave, and I felt like a complete idiot, because it was only that I loved you, and I couldn’t bear for you to leave me behind. I had to _be_ with you.’

‘All right, all right,’ John said at last, as soothingly as he could. He got it now. He really did. At least, he got how Matt felt. He was still pretty clueless about his own reactions.

‘And finally I said yes to Adam, he’s a nice guy, he really is, he deserves to have what he wants, but even then I gave it one last shot – you ironed my _shirt_ , for fuck’s sake, and I tried to tell you – but it was no use, so I went out. And it was great. It was really great! Except I knew I couldn’t go through with it. So I walked out on him. I owe him the biggest fucking apology of all time. I ended up being the worst possible tease, but I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean for it to end up like that.’

‘All right, kid. I understand.’ John headed over to the table and sat down, hoping Matt would follow suit. ‘You wanna drink or something? Beer, coffee, water?’

‘No. No, I’m good. Well, maybe some water.’

John was about to fetch it for him, but Matt took a deep breath, waved him back into his seat, and went himself.

‘You want anything?’

‘Yeah, water,’ John said.

Matt brought two glasses to the table, and then sat down at the far end of it. They each waited there quietly, sipping on their drinks, and no doubt both of them puzzling over what happened next.

Until John realised it was up to him to balance the equation. ‘Look, kid, I asked you for the truth –’

‘And I probably shouldn’t have told you,’ Matt morosely responded.

‘Yeah, you should have. But I owe you the truth, too.’ He took a breath, avoiding Matt’s quizzical, suddenly forlornly hopeful gaze. John was gonna smash that hope, and he felt like a cad already. ‘Look, Matt, I followed you tonight. I saw you with him, I saw you dancing with Adam.’

Matt was gaping again. ‘Why?’

John took another breath. ‘I told myself it was cause I was worried for you, but that wasn’t it.’

‘You mean, you know I can take care of myself?’

‘No,’ he had to admit, ‘but I shouldn’t have followed you. I have to let you live your own life.’

‘No, you don’t.’

‘Yeah, I do.’

‘I mean, you can share it with me if you want.’

John closed his eyes for a moment. ‘I know that’s what you meant, but what I’m trying to say is –’

‘ _Why_ did you follow me? D’you wanna know for sure that I’m gay?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Were you curious?’ Matt was leaning towards him now, thinking he was on the trail of something. Something important. ‘You been thinking about me that way?’

‘No,’ said John. ‘No. I don’t know.’

‘You ever felt that way for another guy?’

‘No. I don’t think so.’

‘Well, what _do_ you know?’

‘Not much.’

Matt groaned in frustration. ‘John, you gotta give me a clearer signal here. I hardly know whether to think you’re interested or you’re disgusted.’

_That_ he could answer. ‘Not disgusted.’

‘OK, so you’re neutral about gays. On principle, maybe. What about when it comes to me?’

He had that one covered, too. ‘Not neutral.’

‘Well, that leaves me with interested, John.’

He just sat there staring at the table. Was it true? Was he interested in Matt that way? He remembered identifying with the other guy, with Adam, vividly imagining how it must have felt when he slipped his hands around Matt’s waist and gathered him in, when he bent to kiss him. He remembered examining the stranger in the mirror in his bedroom, looking for something, trying to work it out, realising that the stranger wasn’t a complete write-off. He still had something to offer.

Well, the stranger was him. _He_ was the stranger. And things were even weirder than he’d anticipated. John murmured, ‘Matt… Matthew…’

And the kid stood, made his careful way round the table towards him. Still giving him time to pull out of this. Still giving him room to move. It wasn’t necessary.

Then Matt was there, standing beside him, leaning over him, and John ran his hands around that lovely waist, and lifted his face for Matt’s first tentative kiss. The electricity crackled through him and his cock sizzled into life and his heart burst into fireworks.

♦

‘John! Oh John, please!’ the kid was crying out. He was wild already, overcome with need, hands blindly searching, body mindlessly pushing against him. ‘Oh _fuck_ , John…’

John sighed, having hoped for some guidance at this point, but obviously the kid was dealing with the build up of hours of lust, weeks of need, months of fruitlessly loving. They were still in the kitchen, and John didn’t think he himself could manage to walk back to the bedroom right now, let alone expect Matt to. Well, the obvious solution was right in front of them.

John grabbed the glasses of water and shoved them onto the nearest counter, then scooped Matt up in both arms, and dumped him on the table. Matt blinked in surprise, but then realised he was only moments away from getting what he wanted. He groaned wildly, lay back and reached up for John, reached up to welcome John into his embrace. John pulled his own shirt off, and Matt’s fingers began fumbling with the buttons of the dark brown shirt he was still wearing… ‘Don’t,’ said John softly. ‘Don’t take that off.’ He’d been right. The kid looked beautiful. John was falling over himself.

‘Please…’ the kid groaned.

John unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, and then did the same with Matt’s pants, hands trembling. He somehow avoided touching Matt while doing so, but then couldn’t resist – he ran his knuckles gently down the cotton straining over Matt’s hardness. Matt hissed, and arched back. John pushed the heavy denim out of the way of his own hardness – realised he was in much the same state as Matt. God, had he been wanting this as long as Matt had…? Well, regardless, he had to see this through. Right now.

He got up on the table. There was no room, no time for subtlety. He lay himself over Matt, between the V of the kid’s thighs, taking his weight on his elbows and his knees, arranging himself so that their cocks matched precisely. Settled himself. As they touched, even through two layers of cotton, lightning crashed down through John, and the kid called out as if in agony. Matt’s eyes were closed; he was lost already in sensation. John tentatively tried a thrust, and the kid cried out again, and an echo sounded which was John himself calling in answer.

Instinctively John thrust again, found a rhythm. His hands slipped under Matt’s back, held him there, arched up against John’s bare chest. For a moment he laughed at himself, dry humping on a table, for God’s sake, at his age – but then the derision was silenced as Matt’s eyes flew open, and the kid cried his name, the kid’s hands clutched at him hard, and then Matt was coming in terrific wonderful bursts, they were both coming, and all was delicious confusion, John barely managed to keep them both safe, to prevent them falling down to the floor. And then in the sweet aftermath they were lying there kissing, kissing, as if that was enough of a promise of more.

‘Christ, John,’ the kid eventually murmured, ‘I love you _so much_.’

‘Yeah,’ said John. ‘I know.’ He suspected that once he’d figured all this out, he’d find it was much the same for him.

Matt looked at him very directly with those gorgeous dark eyes. ‘I’m thinking the sex wouldn’t be half that fabulous without love.’

‘Yeah. I think you’re right.’

‘And it was fabulous for you as well, wasn’t it?’

John smiled wryly at the kid. Well, he kinda already knew it was true, so why didn’t he say it? Hell, he would. He was tired of being careful. ‘I love you, too, Matt.’

And Matt looked so happy that the fireworks started up in John’s heart again. ‘Thank you,’ the kid whispered.

John leant down to press a kiss to that beautiful mouth, but his old knees were protesting about bruises. ‘Come to bed,’ John murmured.

‘ _Fuck_ , yeah,’ Matt responded.

They shambled down the hall in each other’s arms. Their second bout was more fabulous still.

♦

When they got to the head of the queue, the bouncer cast a cool look over John. For a moment, John wondered if the guy would even recognise him, for he must be transformed. He couldn’t quit grinning, for a start – his mouth was sore from too much kissing, and his smile muscles were aching from suddenly being overworked. John wouldn’t have it any other way.

Eventually the bouncer observed, ‘Don’t look like you’re on duty tonight.’

‘Nah,’ said John. He reached to shake the guy’s hand, then slid a possessive arm around Matt’s waist. ‘I’m John, this is Matt.’

‘Oliver,’ the bouncer introduced himself, shaking Matt’s hand. ‘Ollie to my friends.’

‘Well, Ollie,’ said John. ‘The kid wants to dance. How long you gonna make us wait?’

‘You gonna be dancing, too, John?’ Oliver asked.

Matt warned in dire tones, ‘You’d better be.’

John shrugged. ‘Not my kinda music.’ Though he’d promised Matt he’d try, and he could at least envisage himself standing there watching Matt, and then gathering him in for a slow dance. Did they even have slow dances these days?

Matt rolled his eyes, and told Oliver, ‘He’s into some band called Credence. You know, Stone Age stuff. I try to meet him halfway, but…’ A shrug conveyed _What’s the use?_

An idea occurred to Oliver. ‘Give it a try tonight,’ he advised John. ‘But for another night – a friend of mine just opened an eighties club, two blocks from here. It’s not Credence, but it’s nearer the mark.’

‘Thanks, I’ll do that.’

Matt was groaning. ‘Well, I sup _pose_ , if they at least play The Cure…’

A few guys had just come out, so Oliver indicated they could go in now. At the last moment, John spotted another familiar face in the queue. The guy who’d offered himself as second best was gazing at him wistfully. ‘Hey, Ollie, can he come in, too? And his friend there?’

‘Sure.’ Ollie did him the favour of beckoning the pair forward despite the resigned moans and bitching from the rest of the queue. But that was how it worked, and the queue wouldn’t have it any other way, either.

John introduced himself and Matt once they were safely inside.

‘Nic,’ the guy responded, ‘and Mario.’

Matt was shaking his head. ‘You can’t have been paying much attention to stalking me, John, if you made this many new friends…’

‘Oh, he was, my darling,’ Nic assured him. ‘He only had eyes for you.’

‘Yeah?’ Matt considered Nic’s honest, regretful, friendly face for a moment – the story of his offer and John’s response was written there for all to see. Matt nodded, and said, ‘Thanks, man.’ Then he turned to John. ‘Come and dance.’

It wasn’t a request. John shrugged apologetically at the others, and followed the kid out onto the dance floor. Despite the insistent fast beat, Matt gathered John close with his arms around John’s shoulders, John slid his arms around Matt’s waist, and they settled in for a slow dance. They fitted together so perfectly, moved together as if they’d been made for each other. The beat and the embrace seemed to send Matt into an utterly contented trance.

After a while Matt murmured in his ear, ‘Tell me something true, John.’

And John could hear him perfectly clear through the thud of the music. He responded, as he was meant to, with a heartfelt, ‘I love you so much.’

‘Yeah,’ said Matt. ‘I know.’ He was smiling as if he’d never stop. ‘I love you that much, too.’

And the best thing in the world was that was true as well.

♦


End file.
